had willfully shaken her head no, settled more closely down on him, and squeezed him with her tight sweet body until he’d found it impossible to stop. And after that he’d managed, in his whiskey-and-champagne haze, to shove any demand for adult, responsible behavior aside. He’d lain beneath the bucking beautiful girl, mesmerized by the bounce of her bare breasts, her grinding hips, the close warmth sheathing him, squeezing him, driving all logical thought and good intention right out of his head.
Afterward he had carried her straight to the opulent bath, climbed the carpeted stairs to the marble tub, and stepped into it holding her in his arms. He bathed her, and himself, and climbed out, telling her, Stay right where you are. Trailing water and soapsuds across the deep, rich carpet, he soon returned carrying chilled champagne and two sparkling glasses.
They sat in the tub and drank until at about three in the morning Nevada yawned and said, “Johnny, I’m getting sleepy.”
“I know. Let’s get some rest, sweet,” he said.
But when she stood in the tub and stretched unself-consciously, her small slender body gleaming with beads of water, he wanted her again.
“Wait, darlin’,” he said, continuing to recline in the tub below her.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily, soapy bubbles sliding down her pink-tipped breasts and shapely thighs and slim legs, her naked glory reflected in the tall gilt mirrors surrounding them.
Reaching for her hand, Johnny laced her slender fingers through his, rose to kneel on one knee, and pulled her to him. Burying his face against her slippery belly, he pressed hot kisses to the clean smooth flesh, unbothered by the taste of soap on his tongue.
“Johnny,” she weakly protested, and reluctantly lifting his head, Johnny grinned, puckered his lips, forcefully blew away a cluster of thick bubbles clinging alluringly to the raven curls between her thighs. Nevada giggled, but when his dark face made a move toward her, she gripped the hair of his head and jerked his head back. “Johnny!”
Smiling, he lithely rose before her, took her in his arms, and kissed her. When his lips left hers, he cradled the back of her head in his hand and pressed her face to his gleaming chest. He looked over her head at their images in the mirrors behind her. While he leisurely admired the slender curve of her bare back and narrow waist and firm rounded little bottom, Nevada began to press warm openmouthed kisses to his wet chest.
They stood in the marble tub, embracing amid the glistening bubbles, becoming more and more aroused with each breathless kiss, each intimate touch, each glimpse of their bare entwined bodies reflected in the mirrors.
Desire dictating, they climbed out of the marble tub but did not return to the bed. Wet, slippery, and passionate, they mated wildly there on the deep blue carpet before the tall gilt mirrors, relishing the sweet joy and recording forever in their respective brains, the erotic sight of themselves making love.
It happened all over again once they were back in their soft bed. Meaning only to go to sleep, they lazily kissed each other good night. When those kisses strayed to other places, to other parts of the body besides their mouths, a slow sure fire began to burn, a fire that was finally extinguished by a pleasingly lethargic kind of loving. They took their slow indolent time about it and when, long after the act had begun, they attained fulfillment together, it was by far the sweetest, deepest climax of them all.
“I love you, Johnny Roulette,” Nevada said happily, while she lay draped atop him, her cheek resting on his chest, his body still a part of hers.
Those words rang in Johnny’s ears as he lay naked in the harsh morning sunlight. Sober, guilty, and sorry, he had taken the virginity of a foolishly naive girl who, with her face washed clean of paint and powder, looked to be about fifteen years old.
Wanting nothing more than to get dressed
Afterward he had carried her straight to the opulent bath, climbed the carpeted stairs to the marble tub, and stepped into it holding her in his arms. He bathed her, and himself, and climbed out, telling her, Stay right where you are. Trailing water and soapsuds across the deep, rich carpet, he soon returned carrying chilled champagne and two sparkling glasses.
They sat in the tub and drank until at about three in the morning Nevada yawned and said, “Johnny, I’m getting sleepy.”
“I know. Let’s get some rest, sweet,” he said.
But when she stood in the tub and stretched unself-consciously, her small slender body gleaming with beads of water, he wanted her again.
“Wait, darlin’,” he said, continuing to recline in the tub below her.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily, soapy bubbles sliding down her pink-tipped breasts and shapely thighs and slim legs, her naked glory reflected in the tall gilt mirrors surrounding them.
Reaching for her hand, Johnny laced her slender fingers through his, rose to kneel on one knee, and pulled her to him. Burying his face against her slippery belly, he pressed hot kisses to the clean smooth flesh, unbothered by the taste of soap on his tongue.
“Johnny,” she weakly protested, and reluctantly lifting his head, Johnny grinned, puckered his lips, forcefully blew away a cluster of thick bubbles clinging alluringly to the raven curls between her thighs. Nevada giggled, but when his dark face made a move toward her, she gripped the hair of his head and jerked his head back. “Johnny!”
Smiling, he lithely rose before her, took her in his arms, and kissed her. When his lips left hers, he cradled the back of her head in his hand and pressed her face to his gleaming chest. He looked over her head at their images in the mirrors behind her. While he leisurely admired the slender curve of her bare back and narrow waist and firm rounded little bottom, Nevada began to press warm openmouthed kisses to his wet chest.
They stood in the marble tub, embracing amid the glistening bubbles, becoming more and more aroused with each breathless kiss, each intimate touch, each glimpse of their bare entwined bodies reflected in the mirrors.
Desire dictating, they climbed out of the marble tub but did not return to the bed. Wet, slippery, and passionate, they mated wildly there on the deep blue carpet before the tall gilt mirrors, relishing the sweet joy and recording forever in their respective brains, the erotic sight of themselves making love.
It happened all over again once they were back in their soft bed. Meaning only to go to sleep, they lazily kissed each other good night. When those kisses strayed to other places, to other parts of the body besides their mouths, a slow sure fire began to burn, a fire that was finally extinguished by a pleasingly lethargic kind of loving. They took their slow indolent time about it and when, long after the act had begun, they attained fulfillment together, it was by far the sweetest, deepest climax of them all.
“I love you, Johnny Roulette,” Nevada said happily, while she lay draped atop him, her cheek resting on his chest, his body still a part of hers.
Those words rang in Johnny’s ears as he lay naked in the harsh morning sunlight. Sober, guilty, and sorry, he had taken the virginity of a foolishly naive girl who, with her face washed clean of paint and powder, looked to be about fifteen years old.
Wanting nothing more than to get dressed
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